Peace as a positive condition of society, not merely as an interim between wars, is something so unknown that it casts no images on the mind's screen.

Two girls discover the secret of life in a sudden line of poetry.

Breathe the sweetness that hovers in August.

What I heard was my whole self saying and singing what it knew: I can.

We call it "Nature"; only reluctantly admitting ourselves to be "Nature" too.

There's in my mind a... turbulent moon-ridden girl or old woman, or both, dressed in opals and rags, feathers and torn taffeta, who knows strange songs but she is not kind.

Affliction is more apt to suffocate the imagination than to stimulate it.